Latex Shopping Spree For Me, Please

I want a latex dress. Also, I love Miss Mosh.


Save the Happy Trail!

Waxing is in. And it’s not just with the ladies. Even brosephs–especially brosephs, actually–areĀ  breaking out the hair-removal products. I was in a boys’ suite the other day and noticed a box of Parissa wax strips in the trash, so I know it’s real-life true and not just in-Abercrombie-ads true.

I mean, just look at Corey Saucier (really? Really? He can’t help his last name, but A & F can help stamping it right over his package and making me think of truly awful puns to put in this blog) here. There are a good two inches of below-belly-button skin showing, and not a hair in sight from his Ken-smooth chest to the Dick Zone. Which is fine; I mean, I’m not going to pretend like Abercrombie models aren’t attractive.

But in all total one-hundred-percent seriousness…I prefer me some happy trail. Not, not, not, not, not some crazy-hairy man stomach that looks like Steve Carrel in the “before” scene of The 40-Year-Old-Virgin, but just a sexy little line of hair. I think that’s because I just like hairy guys in general. Stubble and/or stubbly-like beard? YES PLEASE. And non-hairy legs/shaved chest/weirdly missing armpit hair? NO THANK YOU.

Case and point.

Now people are going to think I’m a furry or something, or that I like fat hairy dudes with body-pubes covering their massive backs. Except that my readership of zero (HI GUYS!) would never be so harsh and judgemental. Long story short: a little sexy hair goes a long way.


Lots of Talking and Food Lust

Right about now, I would like some raspberries. Or some any-kind-of-food-that-isn’t-dining-hall-dinner. Preferably something sweet and calorific and delicious. I’m bleeding to death thanks to Mother Nature, which makes me want food (to replace the blood with fat, I guess?). That’s definitely something Mr. Internet wanted to know, obviously…sharing is caring!

Seriously, though, imagine putting this in your mouth right now (that’s what she said!):

Ice cream + cookies + sprinkles + heart shape = EXACTLY WHAT I WANT RIGHT NOW. Even if they were shaped like stars, or Hitler’s face, or an earwig, I would still totally eat them.

Failing that, a healthy and nutritious snack of peanut M & Ms and some Doritos would do the trick.

They say never shop when you’re hungry, and that is obviously also true of writing a blog post. Because this reads like it’s straight from the home page of Fatty McFatFat’s Blog: A Food Diary of All Things Fat! However, I want food more than a chihuahua wants Taco Bell, and so I’m gonna give myself a free pass this one time on not saying anything interesting. But OH WAIT, hold the telephone, Mr. Bell (ooh, a historical reference, you get it? ‘Cause with the phones, and the inventing? Never mind)! I never say anything interesting, so it’s all okay.

Topic change: what’s the deal with those black-framed, non-prescription-lensed glasses everyone’s rocking lately? Like this gal:

Sometimes I hate them, and sometimes (like on this girl) I think they’re adorable. Basically I only hate them when they look terrible, because I’m like, why the fuck make yourself look uglier? I’m all for wearing whatever you want, but I’m just throwing this out there: giant Buddy Holly glasses are not for everyone. If you have a giant nose, for example, like this girl I see everywhere sporting these and making herself look like Rumer Willis’s homely sister (which is NEVER a positive). I mean, I know, that’s dick of me, but legit, if I were to toss on high-waisted ’90s mom jeans and someone yelled, “Flat ass!” it would be dick…but it would also be true. Just saying.

My thoughts are all over the place, so I am just going to put this GIF of a girl with sparkly eyelashes blinking to end this. It seems like as good a way as any.

I’m Probably Annoying Someone, Somewhere Right Now

There is this woman in one of my classes who drives me bananas. Everything she says, the God-damn condescending way she talks to our professor, the way she rambles on after said professor tries to shut her up, and even her stupid face make me want to hurl myself off of a very very tall thing.

And then I realized that everyone is annoying. Which doesn’t make her any less annoying, but. It made me think about all the annoying things I do.

Lots of annoying things I do, I probably don’t realize, because if I do them, they don’t annoy me. But I tried to think about it all objectively, since, hey, I was in class, reading a Cosmo, and what better way to spend the hour and a half than by reading about hand-jobs (or, as I call them, the seventh-grade sexual throwback) and thinking about why I suck.


I repeat stories. Like a lot more than one time. This is because a.) I am a little bit fucked with short-term memory, as in, I’m totes senile, so I forgot that I told the tale before. And also because b.) I am boring and only have like five good stories so I have to keep using them on rotation. It’s not intentional at all, but most fucking annoying things never are. And that is really fucking annoying. Like, I hate-hate-double-hate loathe when people do that to me. I’m like I KNOW YOU TOLD ME IT WAS GREAT WOWWWW COOOOL SHUT UP. So, that earns me 5 Punch-Myself-In-The-Face points.

I get unnecessarily irritated when people tell me I can’t do something. Pretty dick. 3 PMIF (I know, I know, it should be PMITF, but pee-miff sounds so much more CLASSY. Oh wait.) points.

I forget people’s birthdays. And important details about their lives. And then ask them about it over and over again. 4 PMIFs por moi.

God, this is depressing. Let’s just leave it at: everyone sucks, life’s short, let’s party.


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